


Clouds Break

by Zen (Mandkips)



Series: violence begets violence begets family [2]
Category: Fire Emblem Series, Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Alternate Universe, Gen, Non-Binary Byleth, Pre-Timeskip | Academy Phase (Fire Emblem: Three Houses), this fic is 50 percent byleth and cyril being idiots and 50 percent friendship development, with a dash of Sad Family Feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-21
Updated: 2019-09-22
Packaged: 2020-10-21 14:40:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,907
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20695223
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mandkips/pseuds/Zen
Summary: Normally, Cyril would have indulged them, but the more time he spends with those three, the more they creep him out. Edelgard feel like their appraising ever movement and action they do, and while Dimitri is earnest enough, there’s something about him that leaves him on edge. Claude’s just an enigma. Heseemsokay, but there’s something in the way he seems to be watching Byleth and him that puts him in the “do not interact” camp.“I can’t save you every time, By.” It’s the excuse he gives when they’re setting up camp for the night. It seems thin even to his ears, but Byleth, having wrapped themselves completely in blankets and clearly pouting, doesn’t notice.--Cyril as Byleth's Adopted Brother AU.Cyril, Byleth and Jeralt make their way to Garreg Mach. A class is chosen, and key characters are met.





	1. (Prolouge) Battle at Remire

**Author's Note:**

> I split this fic into two chapters aka Before Monastery and First Week at Monastery. Though note chapter one is. Extremely short in comparison.

The dawn hasn’t quite beaten out the night by the time Cyril eyes blink open. They’re in some small inn at the edge of Remire village - most of the mercenary group is camped outside, but Jeralt had splurged and got the three of them a room to share. The two kids had taken the floor next to the hearth while their “dear old dad” (Byleth raises their eyebrows when he says it that way and Cyril rolls his eyes. Old bat will outlive them at the rate he’s going.) takes the bed.  
  
He’s up before Byleth, which is strange in of itself. While he himself tends to be a light sleeper due to his early years on the streets, Byleth gives him a run for his money.They _ rarely _ sleep, and when they do its fitful. For once though, his big sibling is sprawled out on the floor next to him, completely passed out. Even though he knows they have to get moving soon he can’t bring himself to shake them awake - so he quietly, he tiptoes out of the room their sharing and out into the rest of the camp.  
  
Jeralt though, is already awake and outside, putting out the embers of the campfire. There’s a bit of dried meat set out that the old mercenary has split into three parts, along with a bit of weak tea in a rudimentary pot. Jeralt’s smile is tired but fond “Hey kiddo. Sleep okay?” Cyril nods, taking a seat by the remnants of the fire. “Where’s Byleth? They not awake yet?”  
  
“Yeah.”  
  
Jeralt’s eyebrows raise in surprise, but doesn’t say anything as he sits across from Cyril. They eat in silence, but it’s comfortable - It’s close enough to daylight that the occasional bird song can be heard through the trees. The empire is pretty this time of year - he’s a little sad to leave it so soon.  
  
When they’ve both finished, Jeralt gestures towards the door. “Let’s go wake Byleth up.” Cyril beats him to the door, and swings it open to find his sibling stumbling out of their room, a wild look in their eyes and their breathing harsh.  
  
“By? What’s wrong?” The door closes behind him and Jeralt with a small thud. He’s at their side in seconds. Byleth stares at him like they’re still processing their surroundings. Slowly, their breathing evens out and their eyes begin to focus more and more, until finally they shake their head. “A dream.”  
  
“ _ The _dream?” Byleth responds with a nod. They don’t look rested at all - in fact there’s a slight furrow in their eyebrow. There has to have been something different about this dream - usually it doesn’t bother them this much. 

Jeralt shakes his head from where he is by the door. “Don’t let it distract you, kid. You know the battlefield is no place for idle thoughts.”  
  
Cyril makes a face at that while Byleth nods distractedly. Jeralt’s a good guy most of the time, but comforting people has always been a bit of a crapshoot. “Anyways, it’s almost time to go. The rest of the camp is almost done packing up. I told you, we’d leave at dawn.”  
  
Byleth looks out the window - the sky is starting to lighten minutely, though the sun has not graced the sky yet. “Of course.” They’re about to say more, before one of the other mercenaries runs in.  
  
“Jeralt! Sir! Sorry to barge in, but your presence is needed.”  
  
In a second, both Jeralt and Byleth are in tactical mode. “Byleth, with me. Cyril, wait with the others” He’s about to protest, but Jeralt is already power walking out the door without a second glance. Byleth though, does give him a look he recognizes - _ Keep hidden. _ He nods; it’s not difficult with the shrubbery and woods surrounding Remire. When they are far enough away, he grabs his bow and quiver and races silently after them.  
  
\--  
  
It’s three teenagers by the looks of it - each in some sort of uniform. (Aren’t the capes a _ bit _ much?) He catches a few words here and there. Bandits, seperated, chase - sounds like whoever these guys are brought trouble with them. The rest of the Jeralt’s mercs begin to mobilize and Cyril follows from the shadows. Byleth is in front up flanked by the other teenagers, but they notice him almost immediately and mouth some words.  
  
_ Distract them. _It makes him a bit grumpy, but he tries to be reasonable. At least By lets him help in a limited capacity. Jeralt keeps insisting he’s not ready for real combat. 

(“You’re only fourteen. You don’t need to know what it’s like to kill someone yet.” He’d said and left at that. He wonders, fleetingly, if Jeralt knows how many corpses and bleeding bodies he’s seen even _ before _ he joined up with them. War takes and takes, it destroyed what he was before he’d ever had a chance. _ I’ve known death before I knew life _ he wants to scream, _ You don’t need to protect me from this. _ Instead, he fumes silently.  
  
Byleth, doesn’t ask questions when he asks them if he can do anything. “Of course I don’t want you to.” They say when he asks, “But you’ll do it anyways if I don’t help.” He thinks maybe that’s why the two of them get along so well - violence has been there as long as they’ve breathed.)  
  
This time is no different - he’s able to sneak into the forested areas and sew chaos from the shadows. An arrow in the shoulder of one of the two bandits ganging up on the boy in blue, a shot through the hand as one of them reaches for the bow on their back. In the distance,Byleth takes men out left and right - watching them fight is almost like watching a morbid dance. They move with grace and purpose, expression never wavering. The Ashen Demon they’re called. Byleth doesn’t like the name, but when he sees them like this it makes sense.  
  
He thinks the battle is over, but the bandit leader gets up and charges one of the strangers. Cyril curses under his breath - he has an arrow notched, but the shot isn’t clear. No matter - the arrow flies, but misses its mark by a good couple inches. He sees Byleth charge forward and he’s gripped with this fear that they won’t get there in time to block the blow - their posture looks all wrong, and he fumbles for another arrow. It’s over before he can finish - Byleth sends the man flying and he can finally let out a sigh of relief.  
  
The field erupts back into chaos as the bandits flee and more men come out of the treeline to chase them. One man in heavy armor approaches Byleth and Jeralt and he takes that as his cue to leave his hiding place and join them.  
  
Jeralt and the man are in conversation, but Cyril catches Byleth’s attention immediately “Are you hurt?”He shakes his head, looking them over himself. Physically they look fine, but they’re clearly troubled by something else. It’s a conversation that will have to wait, because the armored man’s next question is directed at the two of them.  
  
“And how about you kids? Are you the captain’s children?”  
  
As if on cue, the two reply separately with their own terrible jokes “I’m a bandit” “Never met the man in my life” Even if Jeralt sighs tiredly at that, the armored man at least seems to think they’re amusing.

“I’d love for you two to see the monastery too. You will join me, won't you?”  
  
“Monastery?” Cyril tilts his head. It sounds vaguely familiar but he can’t quite put his finger on where he’s heard from.  
  
“Why, Garreg Mach Monastery of course! I’m sure your father’s told you all about it.”  
  
Byleth stares back blankly which he’s sure inspire a _ ton _ of confidence but it clicks in Cyril’s head now. “By,” he pulls on their sleeve and they lean down. “That’s the place Jeralt’s been avoiding right? In the center of Fodlan.”  
  
They consider it before nodding. He’s sure they’re thinking the same thing. What’s so bad about this place that Jeralt refuses to talk about it? The man rarely talks about his past to begin with, but considering the mercenaries have been all throughout Fodlan and not _ once _ been at this monastery is enough to raise a couple red flags. They’re never going to find out if they don’t go.  
  
“If that’s alright.” Byleth looks at Jeralt when they respond, and he has the decency to look away. Cyril feels marginally bad for ganging up on him, but whatever it is, they should be ready to contend with it. 

(“I asked him once.” It was another cold night, and the two of them were wrapped in their usual mass of blankets. “About my mom. He didn’t…. want to talk about it.”

“Why not?”

Byleth shakes their head, and a thread of disappointment laces their voice “I don’t know”)

Jeralt and the man, Alois he introduces himself as later, begin heading to the rest of the mercenary group. Byleth and he begin to follow, but after a few steps, he notices his sibling isn’t following.  
  
He looks back and Byleth is shaking their head distractedly. “Sorry.”  
  
They definitely have some things to talk about before the day is done, he notes, but for now, he lets the silence of the dawn overtake the rest of their walk.  
  
\--  
  
Cyril’s got some of the leftovers from breakfast as the rest of the mercenaries and so called “Knights of Seiros” regroup to head out to give to Byleth, but it appears they’ve been cornered by the three teenagers they’d rescued earlier. Whatever conversation they’re having, it’s getting heated between the three, with Byleth continuing to stand there and look more and more uncomfortable. It looks like as good of a time as any to interrupt.  
  
“Byleth.” All attention is on him now, which Byleth looks way too relieved about. They’re so easy to read. “You haven’t eaten yet have you? Take this.” His sibling nods and takes the piece of dried meat from his hands.  
  
“You were in the woods, right?” The boy in blue says, Dimitri he thinks Alois said?. “Your bow work is impeccable for someone so young.”  
  
The Adrestrain Empire girl, Edelgard, perks up at that. “Oh? Is this one of the other mercenaries?”  
  
“He’s my brother” It’s a tone that that Byleth uses when they don’t want to broker any arguments - mainly when scolding Jeralt after a night of drinking. It doesn’t seem to have done its desired effect though, because while there are no immediate questions, he can already see the wheels turning in their heads, cranking out more potential inquiries. “And thanks.” They ruffle his hair affectionately and he smiles back.   
  
The Alliance kid, Claude, lets a sharp intake of breath out of that. Byleth doesn’t notice - they’re pretty single minded when it comes to their meals, but Cyril does. He fixes him with the sternest stare he can muster, but Claude’s pleasant expression doesn’t seem to have wavered. “Looks like Jeralt’s mercenaries are full of surprises.”  
  
Alois interrupts before the conversation before he can say anything else, but he sees each of the leaders eyes following Byleth for the rest of the day. Though strangely, he feels one pair of eyes on him as well.


	2. (Great Tree Moon) - A Choice between three houses

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cyril and Byleth go to Garreg Mach. It goes as well as you'd expect.

If not for the students wandering around Garrag Mach, Cyril thinks, the place would surely feel more like a prison than a school. He’s only seen walls this tall military fortresses they’ve passed on the road, or back in Almyra. Actually scratch that, maybe it’s just a prison for children.    
  
Okay, so maybe it isn’t that bad. It doesn’t help that he’s a little grumpy - the three teenagers had spent the last one and a half days on the road vying for Byleth’s attention. His sibling of course, incapable of voicing discomfort, listens politely and responds very little, while staring at the back of his and Jeralt’s head the entire time in some vain hope that he will save them from having to talk to people. 

Normally, Cyril would have indulged them, but the more time he spends with those three, the more they creep him out. Edelgard feel like their appraising ever movement and action they do, and while Dimitri is earnest enough, there’s something about him that leaves him on edge. Claude’s just an enigma. He  _ seems  _ okay, but there’s something in the way he seems to be watching Byleth and him that puts him in the “do not interact” camp. 

“I can’t save you every time, By.” It’s the excuse he gives when they’re setting up camp for the night. It seems thin even to his ears, but Byleth, having wrapped themselves completely in blankets and clearly pouting, doesn’t notice.    
  
(“Did you even learn anything interesting about them?” “Claude can do a handstand and Edelgard’s hair frizzes up when she gets angry” “You have to have retained more than that. ”“You said it had to be  _ interesting _ ”)    
  
Alois seems to have taken a bit of a shine to him though. Even if the man is filled with more bad jokes than sense, he passes the time well enough, since Jeralt is there to keep Alois‘ questions from getting too probing. It’s not quite enough to make up for the fact that he and Byleth haven’t had a free moment out of earshot to talk about what had happened yesterday, but it’s enough to keep him from openly complaining when Jeralt and Byleth are taken into the Archbishop’s chambers without him.    
  
He’s standing outside the door looking bored, when  _ she  _ appears. She’s tall, graceful, and looks like something out of a Fodlanese story book. He wasn’t sure people this beautiful existed in the entire world, let alone here, in what he still pretty sure is could be some sort of jail for rich teenagers. 

“Hello child.” His stomach does weird flips when she says that. This can’t be normal right? What’s happening? “I do not recognize you from the rest of the students.”   
  
“I-i-I’m Cyril.” He bows awkwardly. “I’m here with um… Jeralt, ma’am.”    
  
The green haired man next to her, her assistant he guesses, nods, “Ah, his other child I presume.”    
  
“I am the archbishop, Lady Rhea.” She bows slightly and it sends his heart into overtime. Jeralt’s kept Byleth and him pretty sheltered from the church, but unlike Byleth who almost  _ patently ignores _ any mention of Seiros and her followers, he’s retained enough to know that this Lady Rhea’s probably a pretty big deal. He’d never imagined anyone both this beautiful and high up the political food chain (he realizes later, after being at the academy for a couple months and spent most of it rolling his eyes at the dumb shenanigans the noble student get into that its probably just the beauty) would give two wits about him, let alone  _ bow.  _ “I must thank you for what part you did protecting our students. I heard from Alois you were quite brave”   
  
Cyril feels his face heat and rubs his nose nervously. “Oh, heh, it was nothing!”    
__   
“We will not be taking too much of your father’s and sibling’s time. Thank you for waiting.”    
  
With that, the doors close behind them, but his heart stays hammering in his chest until Jeralt leaves the room without Byleth. He’s brought back to reality when he sees the look on his adopted father’s face. “What’s wrong?”   
  
Jeralt sighs - it looks like he’s aged several years in just the few minutes he was in there “Cyril. Walk with me.” He follows until they reach what appears to be an office. It’s pretty standard appearance wise, though it’s much bigger than most of the rooms the three have them have stayed in while on the road.    
  
“We’re going to be staying here for awhile kid.”   
  
He feels himself grow alarmed at that. Maybe this is some sort of jail after all. Jeralt’s not a criminal right? “What happened? What’s going on?”    
  
Jeralt explains and thankfully he’s completely off base with his earlier hypotheses. “They made… Byleth a teacher?” he considers it. On one hand, it makes sense. Byleth’s always been real good at teaching him things and listening when they need to. On the other hand, there are few things in the world Byleth dislikes more than talking to strangers. Or talking in general. And aren’t the students here their same age? Wouldn’t it make more sense to make their father a teacher instead? The whole thing makes his head spin the more he thinks about it.    
  
It occurs to him that Jeralt’s explanation didn’t leave any place for him “What about me?” he can’t help the way his voice cracks a little at the thought of being separated from them.    
  
It’s the first time during this whole exchange in which Jeralt smiles“Byleth asked the same thing. Of course your staying with us, kid.”   
  
He lets out a sigh of relief, but it’s not quite enough. It’s one thing to stay with the two of them. It’s another entirely to not feel like a burden “But what will I… do?” 

“I’ve got a plan.” He sits back in his chair. “I don’t trust Rhea. Byleth’s just a  _ kid! _ I have no idea what she’s doing making them a professor. They have to be up to something.”    
  
It surprises Cyril just how angry Jeralt sounds when he talks about Lady Rhea. He couldn’t be completely off on his first impression could he? But putting the pieces together in his mind it… doesn’t sound quite right to him. What did they want with By? What was it that caused Jeralt to leave here so long ago? What does that mean for them?   
  
“And with me being made the new captain of the Knights of Seiros…” He rubs his face in his hands. There’s a story he “I won’t be around as much as I’d like to be. You’ll need to look after each other more than ever.”   
  
He thinks on that for a bit, turning it over in his mind before settling on something “So like… be Byleth’s right hand man?”   
  
Jeralt laughs, rough but amused. “I knew it would be a mistake to introduce you kids to Alois. But yeah.”    
  
“I can do that. No worries.” He gives Jeralt a thumbs up. It doesn’t completely dissuade the apprehensive look on his face, but at least Cyril feels a little better. “I’m always helping Byleth out anyways. It’ll be a cinch for me.”    
  
“I know you can kid. But just…” Jeralt’s expression darkens once more. “Just be careful.”    
  
\--   
  
Cyril’s been comfortable laying on the floor of Byleth’s new room for about an hour when his adopted sibling opens and closes the door, and flops right into bed. Seteth, Rhea’s assistant from before, had come by and shown him to his room - it’s small but cozy, with a bed, desk and dresser, but most importantly, it’s right next to Byleth’s. He’s not sure if he’ll ever get used to sleeping on his own though, or in a bed. It reminds him of his childhood a bit, and even if it doesn’t sting as much anymore, the thought still sits dark and unpleasant in his mind.    
  
“How’d it go?” The morose look that Byleth gives him is pretty much all the answer he needs. It’s definitely worth getting a pillow thrown at him as he lays on the floor laughing.   
  
“I have to choose a class to teach tomorrow.” They mumble into the bed. He did know them well - mixing Byleth with lecturing a bunch of strangers sounded like a recipe for disaster. And yet here they were, being forced to do exactly that.    
  
Cyril considers. “At least you get a choice?” It’s a weak consolation, but his sibling takes it anyways and nods.    
  
Byleth turns over, looking up at the ceiling now. Their expression is unreadable, like they’re gathering the rest of their thoughts.    
  
“The girl talked to me in my dream.”    
  
He sits up at that - that’s new “What like,  _ talked _ talked?” Byleth nods and explains. Their description is even more vivid than before - it was almost like the girl was there in the room with them. He imagines them sitting on the desk, long hair, a bored expression on their face. It’s  _ weird. _   
  
“What did she mean by… the beginning?”   
  
Byleth looks at him from the corner of their eye. “What do you think?”   
  
“You mean…? All this? That sounds….” Crazy, but… there’s lots of things that haven’t made sense over the past two days. Bandits in Remire, stumbling upon people who just so happen to work or go to school at Jeralt’s former employer, Byleth being made a professor. Maybe it is a bit too convenient  _ not  _ to be pre-ordained. He’s not sure what to make of it, in the end.    
  
“It’s something to think about at least.” He concedes. Byleth doesn’t say anything, just nods half-heartedly and continues to stare up at the ceiling. He lets the silence sit for a bit - the day had already been a lot to process, but adding on By’s mumbo jumbo on top of it….   
  
“Well, don’t worry about the professor thing.” Cyril goes for a more positive subject. “I’ll be your right hand man! There’s nothing we can’t do if we’re together right?”    
  
Byleth does look a little better at that. They roll on their stomach, and the look they give him is fond. “Right.”    
  
They spend the rest of the night discussing their plans for tomorrow (“Okay step one: I’ll need to pull every book on beginners guide to Axes, Lances, Faith, Reason and Flying this library has because I don’t know about  _ any  _ of those things”), and he starts to drifts to sleep on Byleth’s floor. He feels them lift him in their arms and carry him to bed, and before he falls completely asleep he swears he can hear a girl, maybe  _ the  _ girl, laughing softly in the distance.   
  
\--   
  
By the time they break for the afternoon, the two have some semblance of a plan of action. Byleth is going to meet the students and house leaders after speaking with Rhea and the other professors and Cyril is going to dig through the library and find some books on the subjects Byleth thinks they’re lacking on. They’ll regroup before Byleth makes their final decision.   
  
(“You should probably grab a history and geography book too.” He says it because they have  _ terrible  _ memory when it comes to names and he’s got a sneaking suspicion Byleth should at least… remember the places in Fodlan their students are from. Byleth hums in agreement at Cyril’s suggestion. Though he notices the way they pause after they scratch the answer down. “What’s wrong?”    
  
Byleth shrugs, scanning the list they’d made for anything else they were missing “I guess I don’t understand why the classes are based on where in Fodlan they’re from.” Cyril doesn’t have a good answer to that. It’s not like the two of them are paragons for country loyalty - with him being a war orphan and Byleth spending their entire life on the road.)    
  
They’d spent the morning wandering around and familiarizing themselves with the monastery (Byleth’s eyes danced with joy the moment they’d noticed a fishing pond. Like father like child he supposes). It had looked big when they’d come in yesterday, and the inside equally overwhelming. They try and peek in on Jeralt, but by the look of the paperwork stacked on his desk and the look of absolute misery he shoots the two of them, they take it as a sign to leave him alone.    
  
If he’s being honest with himself, he thinks as he waves goodbye to Byleth, he hasn’t really been looking forward to his so called solo mission. It’s not that he doesn’t like books, it’s just… he’s just not very good at reading and writing Fodlanese. Jeralt and Byleth had taught him the basics but the truth of the matter is you don’t need things like that as a mercenary. Jeralt took care of most of the communication himself and multiple books were just too heavy to carry around. There was a collection of fairy tales and legends they’d kept around when he was younger before it got lost somewhere on a trip into Empire territory. After that, the books the mercenaries kept were few and far in between. 

Byleth’s list is simple enough to decipher though, their cursive methodical and easy to read. But ask him to write something himself, or read stuff with complicated and long words? You’ve lost him completely. 

  
Cyril’s able to find the library pretty easily, but he finds himself gaping at the sheer size of it. It’s  _ huge.  _ He’s never seen so many books in his entire life. The head librarian finds him in the doorway, gawking at the shelves and shelves of books. “Can I help you, young man?” The patient smile the man gives is enough to thaw his own nervousness.    
  
The man introduces himself as Tomas, and the two spend a companionable couple of hours digging through the shelves and finding what Byleth needs. When they’re done, he’s got a stack about as tall as he is. “Can you save these for me? I’ll need to make a couple trips.” He hurries through the halls with the first batch, only dropping one or two on the way. When he’s returned at the library though, Tomas is nowhere to be seen - instead stands the Alliance kid, Claude, admiring the stack of books still piled by the door.    
  
Claude notices Cyril’s approach before he can try and avoid them. “Hey, Cyril right?”   
  
“Yeah.” He tries to avoid eye contact and go for the books, but Claude cuts that route off with another question.    
  
“Need any help?”    
  
“Um.” He makes a face. “Not really.” Claude doesn’t seem to have heard him, because he’s already got one half of the pile of books under his arms. He really doesn’t like being helped if he doesn’t need it, but Cyril’s not in the mood to argue and he’s sure Byleth will be done with their rounds soon, if they’re not done already.   
  
They walk in silence for a bit before Claude asks him something “So I’m dying to know.” Cyril already doesn’t like where this is going. “How’d a kid like you get tangled up with a bunch of mercenaries?”   
  
Cyril frowns. These kind of questions are usually pretty innocuous, but they also can veer into some uncomfortable territory real quick.“They raised me.”    
  


“That must have been a sight. A gang of mercenaries traipsing around the countryside with a small boy. Though I guess the same would have applied to Teach when they were younger too.”    
  
It’s starting to annoy him now, the circuitous questions. It’s easy to tell when people are trying to get at something without saying it. What’s so hard about saying what you mean? “What do you want?” He stops and gives the older boy a look. “I’m not going to understand what you want to know, unless you ask it.”    
  
Claude raises his eyebrows in mock offense. “Just wanting to get to know someone who’s close to the new professor. That’s not a problem right?”    
  
Cyril frown deepens. He’s not sure if that makes him feel worse. “I’m really not that interesting.”    
  
“Oh I don’t know about that. At least your sibling seems like...” Claude’s looking for a word and settles for a decidedly wrong one. “a character to say the least.” It definitely does not endear Cyril to him in the slightest. Sounds like a veiled insult more than anything.    
  
“They found me when I was real small, up in the mountains of Fodlan’s Throat.” He knows his words are coming out a bit harsher than they should, but he cannot stand the thought of someone disparaging the people who means the most to him without getting at least the last word in.“Jeralt and By taught me everything I know. They mean a lot to me.”    
  
Claude pauses momentarily, like he’s rearranging something in his mind, but recovers pretty quickly. “Ah, so you are from Almyra originally.”   
  
He shrugs. “I guess.”   
  
“Hmm.” He pauses to open the door for Cyril. Cyril marches forward, not waiting for him to catch up. Claude does though, eventually. “You don’t sound very attached to your homeland.”   
  
“Why would I be? It’s not a place I have a lot of happy memories of. Just a place I was born”   
  
At least Claude has the decency to wince at that “I’m sorry to hear that.”   
  
“You don’t need to apologize.” He shrugs again, his words bit less barbed. “It’s not your fault stuff happened.”    
  
There’s an expression that passes briefly on Claude’s face that he can’t quite read. It’s replaced quickly by what he’s sure is a false smile. “Still, what kind of impression am I setting, asking someone I’m just getting to know about their tragic backstory?”   
  
“That’s alright. I didn’t have much of a good impression to begin with.”    
  
Claude lets out a surprised laugh “Yikes! So cold!” There seems to be a mischievous glint in his eye as he continues. “I’ll have to remind you who you’re talking to.”   
  
Cyril continues to frown. Is this some sort of trick question? “Uh… the next leader of the alliance right?”   
  
It’s the first thing he’s said to stump Claude. He’s not sure why, but he guesses even he doesn’t have a quick response to everything.“That’s…” He frowns, then tries to shrug whatever’s bothering him off. “Hmm, I guess so.”   
  
“You don't really make any sense .”   
  
The older boy smiles at that, letting his tone go teasing. “Says the one who’s lugging half to the library off to his sibling’s room.”   
  
They’ve reached Byleth’s door by now, and the two pause awkwardly as Cyril jimmies the door open with a free hand. “Well. Thanks for the help, I guess.”   
  
“It’s no problem Cyril.” The joking wink he throws Cyril’s way puts another frown back on his face. With a thud, Claude’s put the books down and dusts himself off. He’s sure Claude’s probably got more to say, but his excuse for following Cyril around is gone for now. “And thanks for not saying anything.”   
  
“Saying what?” He responds, but Claude’s already turned the other direction, throwing a careless wave over his shoulder.    
  
He hopes not all the people at this school are that weird.    
  
\--   
  
Byleth eyes the piles of books in the corner of their room and lets out a deep sigh of regret.    
  
“This was all of the one’s the librarian recommended.” He can’t help the joking edge that enters his voice as he sits on the bed, one of the books on Fodlan history open next to him. “Do you think it’s enough?”   
  
His sibling doesn’t respond, instead taking a seat on a chair next to the desk and pressing their head against the desk.    
  
“Do you think Jeralt would let me run away?”    
  
He flips the page absent-mindedly. He can’t make out most of the big words (in which there are a lot), but there’s a bunch of maps in this book that are pretty interesting. “Not even a little.”    
  
Byleth sighs again, raising their head enough to give a soft whump. Cyril continues flipping pages, half looking and half waiting for Byleth to say something. “I’m thinking the yellow one.” 

“You mean the Golden Deer?” Cyril’s surprised - Byleth had seemed the most amicable to Dimitri. He thinks back to his interaction with Claude and makes a face. He guesses people could think he’s charming. 

Byleth dismisses that assumption quickly though. “Their leader…” They pause, considering their words. “I don’t think he likes me.”   
  
He raises his eyebrows. Well he wasn’t expecting that.“That’s on the list of positives?”   
  
They shrug, turning to look at him now. Byleth look tired already, and they haven’t even started teaching. “No. Just interesting is all” 

Cyril can’t help but smile at that. “By, you’ll do fine. You taught me everything I know, and I turned out okay.”    
  
He thinks he sees a hint of a smile cross their face. They move to sit next to him on the bed and ruffle his hair. “That’s because you’re such a good kid” He puffs up a bit at the praise, but all this talking about Claude reminds him of the conversation he had earlier.   
  
“Actually, Claude talked to me today.”    
  
“Did he?” There’s a hint of surprise in Byleth’s voice.    
  
“Yeah. Had some questions about how you found me and Almyra?” Cyril can tell by the look on Byleth’s face that they’re concerned - he’s quick to dissuade them though. “Don’t worry, he wasn’t bothering me.”And it’s true, he wasn’t. Nosy sure, but not bothersome.    
  
They sigh, but nod. “Okay.” The two of them sit in comfortable silence for a bit before Byleth speaks again.”All of them asked about you. About Jeralt too.”    
  
He’s not surprised. “And?”   
  
Byleth holds out a finger for each leader they discuss. He’s still a little surprised Byleth remembers all their names - usually it takes  _ weeks _ for them to retain that much. “Dimitri was the most direct but brief about it. He was curious, I answered his questions, and that’s all there was to it. Edelgard was brief too, but I think she was…” They look for the words. “It’s clear she wanted to know more than she let on. But she is shrewd enough not to ask more than I was comfortable with.”    
  
“And that leaves….” Cyril    
  
“Claude” Byleth’s eyes dance with amusement - it’s a look he’s not used to seeing directed at anyone other than him and Jeralt. “I could tell he was practically vibrating with curiosity. But he was the same as Edelgard. I’m sure my answers disappointed him. I wonder if he sought you out after ...” They pause at the thought, but they don’t need to continue. It’s something that had occurred to him too. He also wonders, fleetingly, if he got the answers he was looking for. 

Byleth sighs, getting up to head towards the door. “I’ll go tell Rhea and the others my choice. Unless you… have any objections.”    
  
He shrugs. Claude’s the only other student he’s really interacted with so far, and he doesn’t… hate him. He doesn’t particularly like him, sure. But he’d rather take a sure bet than an unknown. He’s sure there are other reasons too that Byleth hasn’t mentioned, but he doesn’t push on it. Byleth nods, and goes for the door.    
  
“Oh, let’s get dinner with Dad when I’m done. That okay?”    
  
He gives them the widest smile of the day at that.    
  
\--

Cyril is both surprised and unsurprised how easily Byleth slips into the role of a professor. They’ve always been level headed and patient, but they take to having to talk most of the day… pretty well. Sure, By spends the first couple days after class refusing to say anything other than “yes”, “no” or “Cyril”, But they seem to get over that apprehension quicker than he expected.

He’d also noticed that within the first couple days of official classes, they’ve taken each of the class aside for a one-on-one meetings. He’s not sure what for until Byleth calls him last.    
  
“What do I want out of my experience here?” Cyril blinks back owlishly. “By, I’m not a student.”   
  
Byleth raises their eyebrows “Not officially. But that doesn’t mean I use my time to teach you too.”   
  
“Isn’t that… not allowed?” He’s heard in passing how much the other non-noble kids like Leonie and Ignatz how much their families paid just to get a spot here. It seems unfair for him to reap rewards when other people have suffered.    
  
“What are Rhea and Seteth going to do? Fire me?” Before today he’d be pretty sure that’s exactly what Byleth would want. But now, he doesn’t really know anymore. Sure, while Byleth’s expression remain unchanged, the tension in their shoulders has slowly been increasing over the past week. But they don’t seem ... upset about the newest turn of events anymore. When he still looks unsure, they put their quill down.    
  
“Cyril.” Their voice has gotten softer, “There must be something you want.”   
  
He thinks a bit. “Well, learning to read and write Fodlanese better would be nice.” Something else he wants though? He knows a lot of things already - how to use a bow, a sword, an axe. How to survive on his own if need be. He’s got all the family he really needs in Byleth and Jeralt. The monastery feeds them and puts a roof over their head. So what does he really  _ want?  _ __   
__   
His mind drifts back to his place of birth, and watching the wyvern riders fly over the city, before everything fell apart. He’d always wondered what it would feel like to have the wind in his face and have the city look like dots on the horizon. He’d be able to go anywhere,  __ be  anywhere. It sounds…. Freeing.    
  
He’s blurted it out before he even realizes it’s been on the tip of his tongue. “I’d like to learn to fly a wyvern”   
  
Byleth just nods and notes something down in the notebook they’ve been carrying around. “It’s someplace to start at least.”    
  
He must still look troubled, so they continue. “Just think about it, okay? I hope you don’t have to fight your whole life”   
  
It’s not something he’s expected to ever hear from Byleth. It’s all both their lives had been - but it strikes him that maybe his sibling wants more from life than fighting for coin and food day in and day out. Maybe the monastery has given them the reprieve they hadn’t known they’d wanted. “What about you? What do you want By?”   
  
Byleth’s quiet for a moment, and the reply Cyril gets is filled with uncertainty. “I don’t know.” It’s obviously something they don’t wish to dwell on, because they change the subject in record time “I’ve got a couple other things to put together. I’ll see you at dinner.” He doesn’t press for now, but it’s on his mind for the rest of the day. 

\--

“Could you keep it down? I’m trying to get some studying done.” It’s the day before the mock battle, and Cyril’s returning a stack of book for Byleth and check out a couple more. He hadn’t seen anyone when he’d come in, so he may have been a bit louder than necessary, humming softly to himself and letting books fall to the floor noisily.

He winces, setting the books down gently. “O-oh, sorry.” He looks around the library, but still doesn’t see anyone. The voice came from beyond a large stack of books though, so he takes a guess that someone is working behind it. “Just putting stuff away. I’ll be out of here soon.” He busies himself once more, though a bit quieter, Now he can hear the faint scratch of quill on paper in the background as he picks up each of the books and shelves them where he remembers Tomas pulling them from earlier. 

There’s a sigh from beyond the stack of book, and a girl with white hair peers over the top to look at him. “Do you need help?” 

Cyril shakes his head. “No it’s okay. I got it.” She grunts and returns to her books. He thinks they’re in Byleth’s class but he still trying to figure out all their names. There’s Claude, Leonie, Ignatz, Raphael…. Lorenz is the other guy…. And the other three were noble girls. Lysandra maybe? 

He’s moved on to digging for the other books on Byleth’s list - it's a short stack, only four. He’s pulled three of them from the shelves - a book on crests, a book on the history of the Alliance and another strategy book, but the last book doesn’t seem to be where Tomas had shown him it would be. Cyril must have been standing there for a bit too long, because he hears the voice again. “.... what are you looking for?”

“Oh um. It’s a book about Pegasi. It’s a beginner’s book?” He scratches the back of his head. Maybe he misread the other titles in this section? 

“Oh, I have that.” She wiggles a book out from the middle of the stack. Somehow it remains steady, and Cyril takes it out of her outstretched hand. Now that he’s gotten a decent look at her, he realizes she’s probably only one or two years older than him. “Here. Just tell the professor to give it back to me when they’re done.”

“Sure, thanks...” Her name comes to him when he sees her face. “Lysithea” 

“Yeah. No problem, Cyril” They wave him off. He wonders, briefly, as he heads back down to the rest of the dormitories, why they’re up so late the night before a mock battle. But, he supposes, it doesn’t really matter to him in the end. It’s by far not the strangest thing he’s seen the Golden Deer students do.    
  
(No, that honor either goes to watching Raphael eat 10 plates of food in one sitting. Or was it walking in on Ignatz painting something in the cathedral and getting so flustered he ran off without half of his paints that he had to awkwardly leave by his door later? Maybe it’s better if he  _ doesn’t  _ think about how weird everyone at this school is.)   
  


\--   
  


The Golden Deer win the mock battle fairly handily - Cyril watches from a distance with Jeralt and Alois. Byleth doesn’t do much fighting themselves - instead they direct their new students, prioritizing their experience to showing off any of their skills. Sure, the group still needs some polish, even Cyril can see that much, but it’s a fine showing in the end. He can see from where he’s standing the impressed look on Rhea’ face by the end - she’s still beautiful, but he tempers his awe of her with Jeralt’s warning.    
  
“Why don’t you send me out there?” Cyril asks before they start. While some of the other staff at the monastery made their disdain for him open, he’s pretty sure Rhea and Seteth wouldn’t mind if he participated with the other students. There were definitely a couple golden deer who were disappointed he wasn’t out there either (Ok, it was Hilda. It was really just Hilda.  _ Too bad _ , he thinks,  _ you’ll have to put in effort despite your best effort not to _ .)

The look Byleth gives him is cool and their words matter-of-fact “For one, you would wipe the floor with them.” that startles a laugh out of him, “And two, because you don’t need a mock battle to know what it’s like.” It’s true, he considers, as he watched them prep, the class’ nature easy-going. He wonders if Byleth wishes they could be both be the same as their students.   


“I have you to thank I suppose?” Claude’s eyes glimmer with mischief as the two of them for the rest of the Golden Deer and Byleth to meet them at the dining hall. Since their interaction last week, Claude’s been easy-going around him, but Cyril remains patently unimpressed. 

“For what?” 

He shrugs easily. “For Teach picking the golden deer of course.” 

“No. I would think you convinced them.” Cyril raises his eyebrows, unperturbed. “but if you want to know you should ask them.” Claude doesn’t get the chance to ask, because Lysithea does first over dinner.

“Oh, because this house had the most commoners” Cyril nearly does a spit take as Claude lets out a loud guffaw at his new professor’s bluntness. Other than Lorenz, the rest of the golden deer waver between curiosity and amusement.

“But professor” Lorenz sputters, and Cyril would feel worse for him if he hadn’t heard his noble duty spiel at least two times in the last week. “Our class has plenty of students from esteemed houses in our ranks! Not just me, but from House Goneril, Edmund and Ordelia! And I suppose from House Riegan as well.” Claude winks at that aside, which Lorenz ignores. “Surely such an impressive pedigree-“

Byleth’s response is pretty brutal. “Nobody’s perfect.” 

It’s Leonie’s turn to laugh - it reminds him of the other mercs in Jeralt’s crew. “Good one, professor. Sounds like something the captain would say!”

“Jeralt would be much nicer about it” Cyril notes, giving a sidelong glance to Byleth. They don’t even have the decency to look ashamed, already moved on to picking at the vegetables left in Cyril’s plate - a smattering of broccoli and zucchini. 

Hilda notices and changes the subject before Leonie can go too far down the Jeralt rabbit hole. “Professor, How come you’re eating off Cyril’s plate? Did you not get enough?”

He answers without thinking “Oh I don’t like broccoli. Byleth usually eats what I don’t finish.”

There’s a lot of reactions he could get, but what he‘s not expecting is for Raphael to burst into dramatic tears “I used to do the same for my sister!!!” Leonie pats him sympathetically while Marianne offers him a handkerchief. He blows his nose rather loudly. Byleth characteristically is unperturbed - stabbing the last crown of broccoli on his plate forcefully with their fork. 

Ignatz smiles at that. “That is sort of sweet” somehow that’s more embarrassing than Raphael actually sobbing about it - he can feel his face warming slightly. 

“Older siblings.” Hilda sighs with a shake of her head. “You shouldn’t spoil him so much.” 

“What, So he won’t end up like you?” There’s a smile on Claude’s face, though he’s still not sure how genuine it is. 

“You know what I mean.” Hilda’s pouting, but Cyril remains unconvinced. “You all know I’m not cut out for this kind of work. You saw me in that mock battle, I could barely swing the axe they gave me! Cyril, you’ll be a dear and help, right?”

It’s Cyril’s turn to be unabashedly blunt. “No thanks. I'm good.”

Hilda sputters indignantly, but the topic has already changed back to their triumph at the mock battle before she can respond. Training and watching them in the last week he’d wondered if they could come together as a cohesive unit - its a cast of characters to say the least. But sitting with them now, he feels almost… at ease.   
  
He catches Byleth’s eye, and it hits him then and there. “You picked them because you thought they’d make good friends.” Byleth hums in affirmation when he brings it up before they separate for the evening. In a roundabout way, he decides, Claude was right - in a way he  _ had _ affected why they’d chosen the Golden Deer. Though off-handedly he wonders if Byleth was looking for friendship too. Maybe not consciously anyways.    
  
“Though it was mainly the noble thing.” It’s strange - he feels like just in the past week at Garreg Mach, he’s felt more joy in their general aura than he used to see in a year. He hopes it can stay that way. 

They pat him on the head, messing up his already messy hair. “Goodnight, Cyril.”    
  
He lays in bed that night, switching between excitement for a future he’d never imagined having, and this creeping sense of dread that it won’t stay this good for long. Because, well, when does it ever? 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next part of this series is going Full Friendship Feelings before we get into more Golden Deer Shenanigans so get.... hype?
> 
> Thank you for reading this series and commenting - I'm on twitter @mandkips if you want to see me scream about 1) nonbinary byleth 2) leonie and cyril deserving more love and 3) being gay

**Author's Note:**

> me: *Plots out how I want the entirety of the pre-timeskip part of this series to go*  
Also me: *throws the entire plan out on a whim and publishes this instead*


End file.
